the boxer

I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises.
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm

now the years are rolling by me, they are -[rockin evenly]-
i am older than i once was
and younger than i'll be that's not unusual.
no it isnt strange after changes upon changes we are more or less the same
after changes we are more or less the same

In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.